Memento Mori
by lucifer ravana
Summary: Based on Dracula the Series. A brief glimpse into Klaus' past. The summer of lost innocence. Contains child abuse and rape.


When Klaus was eight, he could remember his father giving several dinner parties. They weren't like his mother's small gatherings where the conversation was light and carefree. In fact, most of the men Gustav invited to share his dwelling were old men, a bit older than Gustav, and they all had a variety of serious and dour faces. Klaus remembers very well that no one ever really smiled during these get-togethers.

The men spoke of strange and terrible things, vampires Klaus had once heard his father mention whilst in their company. Vampires and zombies and werewolves and other ghouls designed to give children nightmares.

Being the son of a vampire-killer gave Klaus a bit of leeway in regard to information. He knew more than a child should know about the undead and he accepted the tales as he accepted everything else in his life. Vampires went right along with what sort of vest he was to wear and how much polka he had to listen to and what books he should read to prepare himself for the world ahead.

His mother had disagreed politely but firmly with Gustav when it came to Klaus' education. She wanted her boy to keep his childhood and not to be afraid to venture beyond. She had only lost the argument when Gustav told her that it wasn't his intention to make Klaus afraid, but to make sure he would be prepared.

At the age of nine, Gustav started inviting Klaus to the meetings. Sometimes, they occurred during the day under the hot sun. His father would act as though the meeting was nothing more than just a friendly social occasion and he would bring in food from down the street for them to picnic outside as his wife served the men drinks and made small talk.

Klaus learned early on that his presence was most welcome amongst the group. Most regarded him as their own future. After all, he was a Helsing, destined to bring down vampires by the dozen and to devote his life to setting souls free. Klaus only smiled as they told him of their expectations and how much he resembled his father and mother, and he did his best not to wince when they pinched his cheeks.

There were so many names for him to know. There was Abraham who walked with a slight limp. There was Matthias who had a stuttering problem. There was Leopold and Olaf who were a bit on the shy side with the group. There was the outgoing Robert who always came to the gathering with a new story of the vampire he had staked. And then there was Karl, a man who walked with a cane but was otherwise very agile and still young despite his world-weary looks. Klaus remembered Karl very well as Karl always seemed to have a rapt fascination with the young Helsing.

"Klaus, eh?" Karl would call for him as the man sat upon a lawn chair away from the others. "That means 'the people's victory.' Did you know that?"

Klaus didn't know that but he kept his ignorance to himself.

"Nevermind, nevermind. Ah, bring me over that blanket there. My legs are getting a bit cold. And come over here, boy."

Klaus had obediently taken up the soft quilted blanket that his mother had made and brought it over to the old man. Karl draped the blanket over his lap and smoothed it down so that his legs were covered. "Come up here."

The lawn chair was large enough for only one person and with Karl patting his knee, Klaus knew that it would be rude not to obey. He knew that his father didn't appreciate rudeness. He perched himself carefully on Karl's lap, his legs straddling the older man's left leg.

"You've grown a bit, haven't you? But you're still as quiet as ever."

Klaus knew no other way to be. His father was the talkative one and he had always assumed that his place was just to absorb the information. "Mommy's quiet too," he said, almost defensively.

"It's a good trait to have, my boy. A very good trait." Karl moved the blanket, lifting the quilt so that it covered Klaus' lower half as well. "Warm under here, isn't it?"

Klaus merely shrugged. It was a warm day with a slight chill. Fall was setting in quickly and Klaus' attention was soon focused on the large oak tree growing in the backyard. The leaves were several different shades of orange and brown, some of them now resided on the ground.

"You're very handsome, Klaus. You're going to grow up and break a few hearts."

Klaus was not inclined to agree with the older man. His hair was too pouffy and his eyes always seemed to give away whatever emotion he was feeling. "Thank you, sir."

"Call me Karl."

The boy's attention drifted back to the tree and he wondered if his father would put a tire swing on the lower branch. It seemed sturdy enough to hold his weight and he had climbed the tree many times when he was younger. At least with a tire swing he'd have something to do besides listen to the old men talk and be their little mascot as Abraham liked to call him. Or maybe his daddy would build him a treehouse and whenever he wanted to be alone, he'd just have to climb up and up and away from everything that bothered him. There were no vampires in the clouds and there was no loud polka music or lectures.

So entranced was Klaus in his ideas that he hadn't felt Karl's hand upon his thigh or short fingers creeping up underneath his shorts. He gasped softly when he felt Karl touch him Ithere/I and squirmed a bit.

"Don't move, Klaus."

Gone was the kindness in Karl's voice, replaced with a certain menace that Klaus could not identify. The voice was huskier and crueler, saying the boy's name as though it was a dirty word. Immediately, Klaus longed for his mother and father but Gustav was talking with someone else and his mother was in the house, probably making lunch.

Karl shifted both himself and the boy and Klaus shut his eyes, hearing the clink of the old man's belt and feeling his shorts being tugged down almost violently. Something hard and wet was felt upon his backside and the child dug his fingertips into his hands to keep himself from moving or screaming. He did not know why, nor did he know what he should do. He hoped someone would see them, would take away this situation from his hands, but the quilt was blocking the view. Klaus thought about kicking it aside, but that would mean exposing himself as well and as terrible as what Karl was doing to him, even worse still was the shame he would feel if anyone saw or knew.

Karl started moving, shifting himself forward and backwards. He moaned quietly and clutched at Klaus with one arm wrapped around the boy's waist as his other hand continued to touch Klaus _there_. Klaus looked up, needing to see something else, wanting to feel anything but the dirtiness inside. Overhead, he could see a few passing black birds. The need to join them was almost overwhelming.

A final grunt and Klaus felt his backside become wet and sticky. His shorts were hastily tugged up by Karl and the snap of the belt buckle indicated that the old man had finished. "Go on then. And keep silent."

Klaus scrambled out of the older man's lap, flinging aside the quilt and ran into the house. He heard his father call his name but chose not to answer, pretending he hadn't heard.

He didn't stop running until he reached the bathroom and tugged off his shorts, underwear, and shoes. Feeling extremely dirty, he quickly turned on the shower and barely waited for the water to get warm before getting inside, not bothering to strip himself of his socks and shirt. Sitting down in the water, he hastily washed his backside and everywhere that Karl had touched him in a desperate attempt to undo what had been done.

He lost track as to how long he stayed in the shower and only knew that quite a bit of time had passed when his mother knocked on the door. She worriedly entered the bathroom, concerned for her son slipping into resignation as she looked upon his now soaking wet clothes.

"Klaus? Why do you still have on your shirt?" To shower with clothes on was extremely silly and Klaus knew it. He thought he had taken off his shirt but couldn't summon any surprise to see the fabric clinging onto him. He shrugged, apparently unconcerned as to the wet clothing.

"Take it off and hand me it. Your socks too."

Klaus obeyed, slowly divesting himself of the rest of his garments and sheepishly handing them to his mother.

"Why are you taking a shower in the middle of the day? Why aren't you outside with the others?"

Another shrug escaped the boy. "I would rather take a shower." This was an honest enough answer and he hoped it would be enough to placate his mom.

His mother sighed as she looked at her only child. Klaus was a dutiful son, a charming young boy, and a delight to have around the house. Blessed with her looks and his father's intelligence, he could be quite a handful when he was hyper. But there were times when she genuinely worried for her boy. Despite Gustav's placations, she still did not feel it right to tell stories of the undead to a young child that would only lead to nightmares, and Gustav's friends encouraged such behavior.

"I know that you don't care for these occasions, Klaus," she began, kneeling gracefully upon the small chair in the bathroom set up beside the vanity. "But these men are very important to your father. He admires them greatly and it would hurt him very much if he knew you did not care for their company. He does these things for your own good and while it may seem foolish now, you'll understand more when you get older. But please, try to get along with them. Will you do this for me, Klaus?"

Her words were meant to be helpful to Klaus. Instead, they came off as detrimental to the boy. He could not speak of anything bad about the men, about Karl. He could only hold his tongue and go along with another one of father's constant teachings. His mother wanted him to follow submissively and if he did just the opposite, he would be scorned. Klaus was already sure of that.

When next he spoke, it was in a quiet, tremulous voice. "I'll do it for you, mommy."

After his mother smiled and left the room, Klaus moved his knees up to his chin, hugging his legs tightly, and cried silently.

Despite steadfastly avoiding Karl the next time his father had his meetings, Klaus ended up having yet another run-in with the older man when his parents had decided to go out to dinner for the night and Gustav got the idea to bring in Karl to baby-sit. Klaus, who had recently turned eleven, had complained that he was too old for a baby-sitter, but was ignored.

His mother had protested. "Karl is too old, Gustav! Surely Klaus would do better with someone a bit younger."

Klaus had silently pleaded for her to win this debate.

"The nights are dangerous, Margaret. Karl knows how to break curses and you couldn't find a better vampire expert in town. Klaus will be safer with him than he would with an unassuming teenager."

"But Gustav..."

"I'm not going to leave him unprotected."

And that, as they say, was the end of that. Karl was called and the man agreed to watch Klaus for the night. When his parents were ready to go, Klaus clung to his mother a few minutes longer than necessary and almost had to be pried off by his father's gentle words.

"Stay safe."

And then they were gone and Karl asked Klaus what he would like to do.

Several board games and dinner later, Klaus started to get tired and he set to yawning. His feelings of wariness had diminished through the night. Perhaps Karl would not touch him _there_ again and he would be safe. Maybe it never happened in the first place and he was just foolish.

"I think it's time you went to bed, Klaus. Don't you think?"

Klaus nodded and scrambled up, heading for his bedroom. For one of his birthday presents, he had received a set of white cotton pajamas that buttoned up in the front and he had been waiting for just the right cool night to wear them. He changed in his bedroom while Karl watched, his eyes making Klaus feel a bit vulnerable and strange but he did not dare to complain about it.

"If you fall asleep quickly," Karl explained, "I'll tell your parents that you were a very good boy."

Klaus had thought he had outgrown such things and so was surprised at the small flare up of hopefulness within him. Karl came over to his bedside and sat down, his cane resting against Klaus' nightstand.

"How old are you now, Klaus?"

"Eleven, sir."

"Such a big age. You'll be a man soon."

Being a man was a concept that was both terrifying and heartening to Klaus. "Yes, sir."

"You've grown quite a bit."

Klaus had yet to have his growth spurt so he wasn't sure just how much he had changed over the years. "I guess."

"Come here and let me have a look at you."

The wariness came back full force and Klaus slowly crossed the room to stand in front of Karl, wishing that the older man would get off his bed.

Karl smiled down at him and placed his hand upon the spot where Klaus would soon be sleeping. "Come up here. What lovely pajamas you have."

"They were a present," Klaus mumbled as he moved onto his bed, stopping and freezing up within when Karl's hand came down upon his shoulder.

"A very nice present. I wish I could have given you something but I didn't know it had been your birthday." Karl's fingers gently massaged the boy's shoulder and neck.

Klaus tried hard not to shudder. "Please, sir," he began, unable to continue as he was unsure what he could say.

"Please what? Do you not want me to touch you?"

Klaus shook his head, wishing that Karl would just let him go to sleep. He could feel the tears already coming and hated the weakness inside of him that was causing such things.

"You do want me to touch you?"

"What?"

"Well, you said that my not touching you wasn't why you said please."

Now Klaus was confused. Despite his fear, he tried to make sense of the situation. "Sir, I-"

But Karl would not let him find such control. "Lay down, Klaus. And do as you're told or I'll have to tell your parents what a naughty child you are."

In an instant, the fear died away in Klaus and there was nothing within him except a cold resignation. His parents would not want to hear anything bad about either himself or Karl. He could not tell. He could only obey.

The same deep sense of shame came over him as Karl took off his pajamas and undid his own trousers. Klaus shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to see anything and trying to keep the tears from coming out. Karl reached into his trouser pocket and took out a small tube of something unidentifiable to Klaus. It didn't smell at all and the boy was too busy trying to desperately remove himself from what was happening.

A sudden sharp pain brought him back to grim reality and he cried out as he was penetrated by something very large and thick.

"Quiet!"

Klaus clamped his lips together, unable to stop the small whimpers that arose from him but keeping the louder gasps and pained moans to himself. He could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking his pillow and made no move to stop them. In fact, he didn't move at all as he wasn't sure as to how Karl would react.

There was a tap-tap-tapping on the window of his room and his eyes quickly opened as he turned his head to the right to see what was making the noise. Anything would be better to look at than Karl's reddened face as he drove into the child. All Klaus saw was a dark shape outside the window, a bird or a bat.

Secretly, he wished it was a bat. One of the bad vampires his daddy always talked about. He knew that vampires couldn't get inside the house unless invited and he would invite in the vampire if the vampire promised not to hurt him. Then Karl would be at the vampire's mercy and wouldn't be touching him or hurting him.

Karl gave a massive sigh at long last and Klaus felt another sharp pain as the invader left his body.

'You should take a shower now, Klaus, and then go to sleep," Karl instructed as he reached over and grabbed out a few tissues from the tissue box on the nightstand. Klaus did not have to be told twice. He raced for the shower and stayed underneath the spraying water for a good, long forty-five minutes.

Sleep did not come easily for him that night nor many nights following.

When Klaus had his first encounter with Alexander Lucard, the biggest, baddest vampire that his father had told him about, he was hard pressed to feel any fear for the man. Even at the tender age of thirteen, Klaus already knew that there were even worse vampires in the world than Lucard could ever be.


End file.
